


We'll Do Lunch

by sixbeforelunch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate SG-1, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll manage to get together one of these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be longer. I may add to it someday, but for now I'm marking it finished.

From: Paul Davis  
To: Philip Coulson  
Subject: Re: Lunch?

Going to have to skip out on our lunch plans. I'm still in Colorado, I've spent the last ten hours chained to a desk, and I'll be in meetings all this week. You know how it is. Rain check?

Paul

*

Paul rubbed his wrists. He couldn't be upset about being handcuffed to his desk after it had become apparent that the virus that was being tentatively classified as an AMS-0511 (altered mental state, non-sentient, no associated physical symptoms) had infected him too, and he was one of the worst possible candidates for this one. When there was a crisis on, one didn't generally have time for niceties. 

Being forgotten about, on the other hand...

"Feeling better?" Landry asked. Paul had gone to the infirmary (been taken more or less by force, with a piece of duct tape over his mouth) to get his shot like everyone else. After a four hour nap, he felt much less inclined to start spilling personal secrets and classified everything to anyone who would listen. Because a virus that worked as the most effective truth serum ever in a base full of people whose secrets' secrets had secrets was just the best thing ever.

Paul opened his mouth to reply, but Landry said, "Good," before Paul had made a sound, and Paul closed his mouth again. He missed Hammond.

"I have a few things for you to go over, before you go back to Washington," Landry said, and dropped an eight inch stack of folders on the table. "Have fun." Paul manage a weak smile as he paged through them. Jackson had gotten distracted and written half of his report in Farsi again. At least is was a language that could theoretically be translated by someone with the security clearance to read it. Once, Jackson had tried to write a report in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon and had ended up writing it mostly in Elvish. All of the Lord of the Rings nerds with the requisite security clearance were on Atlantis, and of course Jackson got pissy when they made him fix it, because he had more important things to do. Saving the galaxy and all. Divas, every last one of them.

"Yes, sir," Paul said, because that was what you said to generals, unless you were a member of SG1. "Anything else?" he asked, because Landry was kind of smirking at him.

"No, no, nothing else. It's just...My Little Pony? Really?"

Paul valued his reputation as a model of calm efficiency too much to do what he wanted to do, which was to crawl under the table in fetal position and refuse to come out again. He just cleared his throat and shrugged and regretted his life choices. He did that a lot, when he was in Colorado.


	2. Chapter 2

From: Philip Coulson  
To: Paul Davis  
Subject: Re: Lunch?

Don't worry about it. I was sick earlier in the week, and now I have a backlog of crises. Next month? Barring the end of the world, I'll be in DC from the 7th to the 15th.

*

Coulson contemplated all of the ways that he could hide the body of the agent in front of him. "Explain to me again how you allowed routine HR paperwork to devolve into a hostage negotiation?"

"I wouldn't call it a hostage negotiation, sir," the agent said. Muttered. Sulked. Where were they even getting these people anymore?

"They're sending out a list of demands," someone said, and a piece of paper bounced off of Agent Sulky's head and landed neatly in Coulson's hand. Couslon rolled his eyes and skimmed down the list. It was written in sharpie and highlighter, on the back of a memo about appropriate office footwear. Coulson recognized Stark's blocky print, Banner's scrawl, and Barton's surprisingly neat cursive. He was more than a little dismayed to find Roger's script on there as well, so neat and flowing that it looked like something out of a textbook, but whether that was because he was practically perfect in every way or because they had actually bothered to teach penmanship in the 30s was an unanswered question

"When did we lose Captain America?"

"About two hours ago. He was originally trying to talk them down, but then Stark hijacked the audio feed on the computers and..."

Coulson smiled. He had been reliably informed that it was a terrifying sight."And?"

"He read off a bunch of emails between Ross and his research staff, detailing some of the experiments that the army has planned for Doctor Banner, if they can get hold of him. He got to the part where one of the army doctors went on and on about how much he wanted to get his hands on a tissue sample of Banner's brain stem when he, Captain Rogers I mean, stalked off."

And went to play immovable object with Thor. Wonderful.

"Did it occur to no one that classifying all gamma-mutated tissue as an unstable biological specimen to be surrendered to the army on demand and then expecting Doctor Banner to sign off on it as part of his contract might ruffle some feathers?"

There was silence.

"None of you actually read the contract you were asking him to sign." It wasn't a question. Couslon did not so much as sigh. He just said, "Stark. I know you can hear me."

"Agent. Feeling better?" The voice came out of someone's laptop speakers.

"I thought we got him out of the computers," someone said. Coulson ignored that little bit of wishful thinking and returned to the matter at hand.

"I have your list."

"Eh, it's mostly obsolete now anyway. I've decided to move the people I care about to the moon, rename the Sea of Tranquility 'Starklandia', appoint Pepper as our stern yet benign dictator, and let my AIs go Skynet on the rest of you."

That was a disturbingly plausible scenario.

"Thor is going to get Asgard to recognize us as a sovereign nation. Sovereign moon? Something like that."

Time to end this.

"I have your list," Coulson repeated. He skimmed the items again. "Yes, yes, no, yes, no, no, no, absolutely not, no, only if you're very good, no, no, yes, yes, yes, we do that already, no, no, yes, yes, no, I'm pretty sure he's already dead but I will make sure, no, no, yes, no."

"Number eighteen is not negotiable." That was Clint.

"Fine. I will get General Ross to issue an apology. It will be a written apology, it will not be delivered in person, and he most certainly will not be wearing a tutu."

"Hula skirt?"

"No."

Silence.

Coulson waited.

"Deal," Stark said. The Avengers filed out of the conference room followed by Darcy, who had been playing the part of hostage, very willingly.

"This is why I don't take sick days," Coulson said.


End file.
